The Empty Seat
by Bammshee
Summary: AU following Fortress Maximus and Ambulon's budding relationship through-out their time on the Lost Light, struggling with Fort Max's PTSD.
1. Chapter 1

When Ambulon accepted First Aid's invitation to the bar he'd expected to be in secure company all evening. Not dropped at the first opportunity. As soon as they entered Ambulon saw heads turn, all highly curious about two of the Lost Light's new additions but only interested in speaking to one of them. By the time they arrived at the bar First Aid was swamped by old friends all desperate for his attention and trying to drag him away.

"You don't mind do you, Ambulon?" First Aid asked, mind swimming from the high of popularity, his arm was being tugged on, leading him in a different direction, "It'll only be for a bit."

Of course Ambulon _minded_ he didn't want to be sat alone in a room full of leery Autobots. They were just as interested in him as they were in First Aid but for all the wrong reasons. No one bothered to talk to him; instead, they just made assumptions about who he was, why he swapped sides, how long it would be before he blew a gasket and waltzed into a shooting spree.

Ridiculous, Ambulon didn't even have his gun here. Ultra Magnus had confiscated it when they boarded. '_Standard procedure_' the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord had said. It annoyed Ambulon sometime later to see First Aid's weapons had been returned (or possibly never left his side at all) and Ambulon hadn't see his Uzi since.

First Aid had his drink bought for him and was then ushered away, waving goodbye. Ambulon settled his own payment then found an empty table that hadn't been cleared yet. He pulled up another chair in anticipation of First Aid's return but the more he waited the more unlikely that seemed. Especially as someone had just bought First Aid another drink. Something warm and fruity and full of high grade. Soon First Aid was as rowdy as the rest of them, linking arms with old friends and merry-making while Ambulon hunched over and sat alone, sipping on his bitter draught.

"This seat taken?"

The approach startled Ambulon, he jerked out of his drink and jarred his neck. Too busy fixating angry glares on First Aid to notice the hefty shadow dropping over him.

Ambulon craned his neck up… and then up again until he could make contact with Fortress Maximus's glowering optics, brightened by the slope of his helm crest.

Fort Max held a cube of undiluted high grade in one tight fist and waited.

Ambulon stuttered a little, after a glance he confirmed what he'd been suspecting all evening - that First Aid wouldn't be returning soon.

"No, you take it." Ambulon waved at the seat, expecting Fort Max to carry it away to one of the other Autobot groups huddled in the peripheries of the room. While Fort Max wrapped a fist round the chair Ambulon returned to glaring at First Aid, hoping the shirker saw Ambulon proverbially closing the door in his face. Typically First Aid didn't look. He was preoccupied laughing at some unfunny joke or lame anecdote, Ambulon assumed.

There was a scrape of metal across the floor, followed by the many groans and hisses of Fortress Maximus's newly installed joints shifting pressure to accommodate his size. He sat heavily in the seat opposite, wincing as some high grade accidentally escaped the cube and wetted his thick fingers. He looked uncomfortable and gawky, sat there - on a chair hardly built to support his size, the energon cube concealed mostly by his fingers looked more like a thimble.

"Everything on this ship is too damn small." Fortress Maximus complained, flicking the sticky droplets off his hand, expression pulled tightly in a look of disgust. Ambulon's head bobbed, honestly he hadn't noticed anything being too small but maybe that was because he'd never experienced issues of scale like Fortress Maximus undoubtedly contended with daily. There was a tang of oil and high grade wafting off the larger mech with overpowering potency, it made Ambulon think this wasn't the other mech's first drink of the day. His thoughts wandered back to Delphi and before that, and Ambulon felt his spark squeeze. He was essentially sat in the presence of a celebrate Decepticon killer. Ambulon suddenly felt very accountable for his life choices.

Fortunately, Fort Max seemed intent on picking a fight with everything else and spared Ambulon the ridicule. When the patent crowd of _old friends_ arrived to spirit Max away advertising stories of the 'good ol' days' to be had Fortress Maximus dismissed them. Like they were pests he waved them off, body hunkering closer to the table defensively in case they'd try to drag him away.

It took a few attempts, but eventually the small swarm of old friends took the hint and grudgingly sidled on. Ambulon's audios picked up on a few snide whispers when the mechs thought they were out of earshot. For the most part Fortress Maximus didn't appear to care.

"I'm not bothering you, am I?"

Ambulon was taken aback, his confusion quite plain. Max elaborated, awkwardly.

"It's just that I - I don't remember much about before Guh"- Max cleared his throat, " About when I would've known those mechs, they're all just faces to me now and, you know, new ship new start and all that, I was hoping I could make the most a clean slate. I know you were on Delphi, I remember that, but I wanted to introduce myself again. I'm Max." There was a hesitance in how he spoke and it made him look withdrawn or uncommitted. Although he was trying hard he was easily embarrassed.

So was Ambulon. It was difficult to fight back the cringe pulling so insistently on is face. Dancing round niceties was hardly a Decepticon habit. Of course he wasn't under that allegiance anymore but habits were always tricky to break.

"Ambulon." He groused and they sat still and quiet for a moment. He may not be a gifted sympathiser but doing favours wasn't beyond him, "It could be your data storage is corrupted, I could run some diagnostics and see if I could dig up anything from the backup catalogue. You might be able to remember"-

"No." The response was immediate and stern. Ambulon's offer lifted and destroyed before they could start exploring it. Max faltered, "Thank you but… I'd rather not." And he twitched. Struck suddenly by something invisible, making internal components rattle.

It was clear enough that Fortress Maximus didn't want to be persuaded. That was fine, Ambulon was never capable of bargaining. They sat and drank quietly, under a cover of prickly heat in the mad scramble to think of something else to talk about.

"How're you finding the ship?" It had been little over a week since they'd boarded together. Ambulon distinctly remembered stepping into the docking bay and almost being surprised by the lack of snow gathered in steep piles as it was near Delphi. They were greeted by the ship's captain and his commander who gave them a 'not-so' brief introduction and then they were sent on their separate ways. Ambulon's time was filled with learning the ropes of the medical bay. He'd hardly seen anyone since then. Titrations and practice took over his life, off shifts were mostly spent revising. First Aid was genuinely appalled to learn he hadn't visited the bar yet and that was why Ambulon had been dragged along tonight.

"It's…alright." Fortress Maximus circled the edge of his cube gently, "Ultra Magnus wants me shadowing Red Alert. Got my induction next week, gotta pass a psych-eval first. It's a cruddy job."

Ambulon had been introduced to Red Alert on the first day. The Director of Security vetted Ambulon while the medic was trying to perform his oral exam. The Assy Glitch was paranoid, thought there were nano-scopic microphones embedded in his molars. When the topic of Ambulon being an ex-Decepticon inevitably surfaced the skittish Security Director nearly bit through Ambulon's finger tips.

"…Doesn't look like there's much room for improvement on this ship though."

"Already thinking of jumping?" It was curious of Ambulon to ask, he'd spent most of his life outrunning one thing or another but since joining the Lost Light, despite the pressures, oddly, he found himself settling.

Fortress Maximus shrugged,

"Maybe."

"Where'd you go?"

Another shrug and Max clasped both hands round his cube.

"Cybertron." But as he thought about it doubt crept into his tone, " Maybe, I think my reasons have changed though, I wanted to…" The more he lingered the foggier his expression became, until Max shook off the haze, "What about you?"

"You mean if I could go anywhere?"

"Yeah."

The conversation digressed into chatter. Easy, shallow small talk accompanied by the strain of finding new topics to refresh the old. Its seemed Fortress Maximus and Ambulon were naturally inclined to sit quietly but, between them, there was a particular necessity to keep the other entertained. With some effort they continued talking and between speeches Ambulon's thoughts flickered from the pristine mech sat in front of him to the diabolical carnage he helped mend once upon a time at Delphi.

It was grim image, Ambulon decided he'd better push it from his mind before the tension it filled him with built up too much pressure. Ambulon rolled his shoulders, lips pulled a little too tight to feel like he was behaving naturally.

Max showed no evidence of noticing the flickering struggle, he kept his gaze down as he talked, fiddling with his cube which, by now was emptied.

"Would you like another?" The suggestion came at appropriate timing seeing as Ambulon had also sucked down the last of his cube.

"Uhh," Ambulon didn't want to bring it up, Fort Max was not his patient, primarily he was paired with First Aid, but medics talked. By extension, Ambulon knew of the kind of medication Fort Max was proscribed for certain physical ails and none of them should've been mixed with High Grade. But outside of the medical bay Fort Max's business was not Ambulon's and even though he shouldn't be encouraging Max, one more wouldn't hurt… his old motto. Ambulon moved more freely under the blanket of inhibition, the grip of self-consciousness loosened round his tongue. Fortress Maximus brought back a stronger mix for both of them. The moment the engex burned into Ambulon's intake he winced.

"Not a big drinker?"

"Not a big fan of the hard stuff…" That was a lie, he just needed to be in the right mood… or should that be a bad mood?

"Eh, it's alright." Max slugged back half his cube in one sitting; bigger mech, bigger mouth. It flowed into his tanks and settled where it warmed leaving behind a sharp taste in his mouth. Max rubbed away the sensation, stifling a hiccup, "This frame is just… it needs some easing in."

37_%_ _Of ALL our replacement parts you wasted on _**_him_** The sound of Pharma's biting condemnation Ambulon would never forget. Fortress Maximus turned into First Aid's latest project, his newest obsession; anything that came into contact with the Wreckers and First Aid swooned over it … wasted resources on it. On Fortress Maximus. The sleeping giant who was doomed to remain dormant for the rest of his miserable existence - according to Pharma.

Ambulon didn't tell Max that it was mainly his extremities they replaced; limbs, armour - nothing that would alter his tolerance for high grade. He let Max believe what he wanted to and so just smiled along.

"To be honest," And this was the effect of high grade that compelled Ambulon to share, "I haven't drunk much since taking up my position on Delphi… there was _one_ staff party," The memory of it so morbid and disastrous it brought a small glint of a smile back to Ambulon's face, "Hardly remember it and know never to repeat it."

Fortress Maximus looked strangely fascinated as he poured the rest of the high grade into him.

"Really, never?"

"…heh, maybe never is a bit drastic."

A round of laughter erupted on the other side of the room stealing their attention. It was First Aid's group, and the Assistant CMO was still locked among them. Ambulon's eyes focused on First Aid's drink, either it had not been drunk from yet or at some point First Aid had got yet another refill. The sound died back, the mechs in that corner of the room started favourably clapping each other on the back as they continued reminiscing.

"Bah, hate noise." Fortress Maximus muttered. He was hunched up, pressure was white behind his knuckles, all of this went unobserved by Ambulon.

"You're in a _bar." _It was nearly laughable. Fortress Maximus had found the worst place to go for mechs who appreciated peace and quiet.

"You tell me, where else is there to go on this ship?"

Ambulon should know, or though he should know, he'd been making house calls all week and running errands between decks for Ratchet. Strangely, he never saw First Aid participating in the same kind of leg work and yet the other medic seemed to have a far better understanding of the ship's lay out than Ambulon.

"Yeah, exactly." Ambulon's silence was telling.

"We could go back to our quarters?" Ambulon wasn't quite sure what he was propositioning Max with and was a little intrigued when Max agreed. Faltering once, but ultimately spouted a 'yes'.

Ambulon took down the rest of his engex in big sips, still wincing and squirming to Max's amusement. They were preparing to leave, their empty cubes settled at the middle of the table, when First Aid _finally_ sidled over.

"Hey." He greeted as if he hadn't spent the better part of two hours away, fawning over his new friends.

Fortress Maximus froze in the middle of rising from his seat, already a head taller than Ambulon.

"We were just leaving." Ambulon finished standing and tucked his chair beneath the table, not giving First Aid a look, deciding it was too little too late. He probably only came over because he saw Ambulon making to leave with another mech. _Prick._

"What? Already? Why don't you come and join us?"

_Us, _so First Aid was _with_ them now after saying he'd spend the evening with Ambulon. It would be funny to watch how quickly things changed if Ambulon didn't have to suffer the embarrassment of being abandoned in favour of other, _cooler_, people. Fortress Maximus must think he was the joke.

"No thank you." Ambulon kept his head down, blocking out First Aid who still floundered next to him, looking between Ambulon and Fortress Maximus.

"How about you Max? You've got friends over there, think you can convince Ambulon to join as well." The added nervous chuckle made First Aid look desperate. Ambulon sensed the awkwardness seeping into Maximus's joints like a thick mud and felt guilty for bringing the hassle to their table

"That's up to him." Ambulon sounded stern, "I'm going now, First Aid"

Before First Aid could protest and beat back Max's resolution again, Fort Max cut in.

"I am going as well…sorry."

Sighing, First Aid stepped back, letting them stride past together.

"Alright," He said, resigned, then looked to Ambulon, "Will I see you later?" As always full of assumptions he'd probably spread to his new group of chums. _Frag it,_ let them talk. It was none of their business. Though he couldn't speak for Max and it was hard not to let his gaze drift to Max for an answer. There was none. Ambulon fought to show some of his own back bone.

"Probably, I don't know."

Max had moved on ahead but now paused, waiting for Ambulon to catch up. His fingers stretched and curled, the bar light's hew highlighting a sheen of vapour coating his frame.

"Oh." First Aid's head dipped and Ambulon didn't answer his final goodbye. He and Max paced out into the corridor, both kept quiet while Ambulon furious condemned First Aid for dragging him out that evening, almost forgetting Max was still leisurely striding at his side.

"What's going on with you and him?"

"Hmm, what? Who, First Aid?" Ambulon's pace relaxed, he craned his neck high to look at Maximus who was staring far ahead.

"Yeah…"

"Nothing, we're just works partners…Why?" A little slyness showed, Ambulon wandered closer, keeping to a place where he could feel wafts of Fortress Maximus's hot ventilations striking his frame.

Max's silence stretched on and Ambulon thought he'd forgotten to answer. They turned into the next corridor and Max's pace got even slower.

"He seemed interested in you."

"Heh," More like, interested in why Ambulon was leaving with a prized 'Wrecker Trophy' instead of watching him play popularity with his new friends, "Did he?"

Fortress Maximus didn't answer again.

They were soon stopping in front of a door, larger than most, it belonged to Fortress Maximus. His habsuite, his home, was inside, where there was peace, quiet, space to move around… a big berth to lounge on.

His hand hovered over the opening mechanism, still and longing. The hesitance rousing Ambulon's suspicious.

"You press the buttons," He offered, wise cracking not part of his usual character but that was high grade and excitable apprehension bubbling in his tanks. However, Fortress Maximus did not laugh. The crest of his helm darkened his expression, he'd drooped.

"I'm sorry," Fortress Maximus muttered and began keying in the locking combination, "…I'm really tired." Max spoke quietly as if he was being insincere from the start and ashamed of it. After leaving Swerve's together they had both assumed this would end with the same conclusion. What had changed, Ambulon couldn't guess. The liquid heat of anticipation cooled abruptly in his tanks, settling into something solid and uncomfortable: disappointment.

"Oh…"

The door slid open and Max still stood in front of it, blocking the entrance. Inside, Ambulon spotted the black outline of furniture hidden in shrouds, he wouldn't get to take a closer look tonight - that was decided.

"I'm sorry," Max's apology was more strained the second time, thick layers of guilt roughening his tone, "I'm not…I'm not in the mood"-

Ambulon hopped back at a jarring speed and put a respectable distance between them again.

"That's fine."

Fortress Maximus squinted at him, made incredulous by Ambulon's passiveness, and his lips tugged down in defeat, Ambulon saw a listless expression encompass the mech, like he was battling back something: An opinion, or a reaction, something he kept beating away from the surface.

Eventually he nodded at Ambulon, offering a quiet goodbye as he stepped into the darkened room, just the light of the hallway picking out the angles of his back and treads.

"Good night." Ambulon softly spoke, failing to completely cover his dismay and Fortress Maximus shut the door as soon as he could, leaving Ambulon in the corridor.

Silence slunk down from above. Fortress Maximus waited till he heard soft shuffling beyond his door. Ambulon was moving away, resigned, what briefly looked like a salvaged evening turned abruptly to a debacle.

Disappointment wounded Max so deeply he groaned from it, falling back to rest on the door.

"Lights: On." The room illuminated, brighter than the corridor. Everything was stark and pale. The starlight eking in through the port hole had no effect anymore, drowned out by an artificial replacement.

A theme of replacement continued, Fort Max still hadn't settled in his new parts. His ventilations rattled more than he remembered, joints sometimes squeaked because he'd yet to wear them in.

The riots he caused on Delphi were spurred by instinct. _Don't stop of they will get you!_ He hadn't stopped, even after his enemies were in pieces his hands still twitched and his mind was on edge, waiting for more, expecting it.

Later, locked in his hab suite as he was now, Fortress Maximus ached. The suddenness of the ordeal violently thrust upon him finally settling in. It took its toll. That day he'd kept moving and moving until he _had_ to stop because there was no where else to go. Returning to his hab suite each night ever since was like arriving at the end of the line. Confronted by nothing at first; just white walls, a berth, some storage units … and then things started creeping on him. Horrible, dark things he couldn't run from or didn't want anyone else to be exposed to…

Beside his bed was a computer console, on it: a set of songs he'd already prepared and played a little louder than what was comfortable for his factory-set audios. Music filled the room, masking the underlying silence. Pushing back his own thoughts, if he could just concentrate, isolate himself, then he could beat this. He could cage his demons in this room, force them in corners, where no one else would have to meet them.

The friends at the bar he shunned could remember him as he was. Not this, not the mech he saw standing in front of him when he looked in the mirror. His new armour hid all the damage. It made him look brand new and only Max would know what's hidden underneath.

… and the staff on Delphi.

That medic.

A sudden churn of anxiety in his tanks brought Maximus's hands to his mouth. Swallowing.

Doctors were like detectives, Ambulon would know all of what he suffered but still (Max had an astonishing moment of realisation) chose to talk to him.

Only because he sat at the table, giving Ambulon no choice; Max could argue against himself and lose, or go on to reason it was free will that brought Ambulon to his door…

In the mirror, the reflection raised its hand as Max raised his, smoothing large circles over his chest, calming his palpitating spark.

Even so, to think he'd almost brought the scabby medic inside, tempted by the thought of a warm berth. It would've been so embarrassing when he took a peek at what Max had hidden underneath. How he appeared on the medical slab at Delphi a horrific prequel to what lurked under his seams now. That was enough to begin convincing himself that he was better off alone that evening, Max was protecting himself, but who was he fooling? What bothered him the most was not that he _shouldn't _invite the medic in, it was that, despite all his pretending to disassociate from his burdens, Max _couldn't_ convince himself that he didn't want the company.

…He just didn't feel worthy of it.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello, Fortress Maximus, my name is Rung - please come in, make yourself comfortable."

"Rung." Fort Max repeated as if the name had a slippery taste to it. He'd not bumped into the lithe - framed psychotherapist before now either. For a mech with such a prominent stature among the ships workings Rung was, and remains, highly elusive.

"That's right." Stepping back, Rung waved Fortress Maximus into the room. When the door hissed closed behind him Fortress Maximus was overly aware of it. He was trapped inside now, alone in the room with a stranger. Somehow this space seemed disconnected from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the ship, like they were sealed away, alone, and in private.

It was quiet, Fort Max noticed that next, audios accurately tuned to detect the most subtle of changes in tone and engine sound. Rung's voice was as clear as crystal, crisp and devoid of an accent Fort Max could associate with. This impersonal trait adding to the neutrality of the office. Everything was blank and clean with the exception of a wall dedicated to a collection of models but even those were displayed orderly.

In the room, Fort Max couldn't seem to find his place. Yes, there was a berth prepared for him but he couldn't settle until he was told to.

The berth, clean and broad, big enough for him and bigger.

The psychotherapist trotted about, gathering things for their session, Fortress Maximus ensured that at least Rung's shadow remained in the corner of his gaze and never fully turned his back on the mech even as he reached out and petted the berth, checking its support.

"It's okay." Rung promised, "You won't fall through it."

But Fortress Maximus still sat down tentatively, hovering his weight, sinking bit by bit.

"Is this right?"

"Of course! You can even lie down if you want."

Fortress Maximus did not. With Rung taking up position at the head of the bed, on a seat of power and influence, if Maximus was to lie down that would put the psychotherapist in a position above Max's head and he didn't like that. Not at all. So Maximus kept sitting, not saying any more, trying not to dwell on anything outside of the room while he waited on Rung for the session to start.

It irked him somewhat, that he was being made to wait after making a special effort to arrive on time. Admittedly, responsibility for Max's prompt arrival rested with coincidence and a disturbed recharge waking him at strange hours. Though Max recalled being a naturally early riser when used to have a schedule, coming online in the small hours of the morning and returning in the middle evening was normality to him. Unit boarding the Lost Light had cast him adrift in a sea of hours.

It disgusted Maximus to clamber off the berth feeling muggy and unrested and discover it was already well into the second cycle. Had he had more to do he would've called that a waste of a day. It mattered less in recent weeks considering his only obligation was to arrive at his therapy session on time. This possibly added to his irritation for Rung's lack of preparation. His whole week revolved round this one session. Rung was clearly taking on too much work if he couldn't stick to his own timetable.

"So, Fortress Maximus, you've been aboard the ship now for… how long?"

"Two weeks." More or less.

"Yes, how are you settling in?"

Ambulon had asked him something similar last night, Fortress Maximus had found the question easier to answer then, in Rung's company his replies were more guarded. He remembered that Rung was a professional, these questions may serve more purposes than just friendly talk or stalling for time to collect himself.

"As well as can be expected."

"What's your room like, is it big enough?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Right, Fortress Maximus, have you ever spoken to a psychiatrist before?" Rung sat back, finally ready to get underway. He smiled at Maximus, little hands curled round his clipboard.

There were occasions, following the brutality of Simanzi when counselling was offered to him but he'd declined it.

"No."

"Okay then, well, before we begin I'm going to explain to you what the purpose of each session will be, how they work and how I conduct them - we will work through any problems you have stage by stage"-

"Problems?" The word sounded bitter, Fort Max thought he already knew why he was here… "I'm supposed to be getting a psych examination so I can start working?"

Rung stared at him, in an evaluating way that was surely characteristic of all therapists caught in a pinch.

"Okay." Rung finally said, looking down at his clipboard again. Max was curious of what he was studying and of how much personal information the psychotherapist was hoarding on his clients. Already he could feel his comfort being tugged away from him, Max wanted to see that clipboard, to know what Rung knew, and by doing so feel some control over the direction their topics would take.

Rung's pause reached an end, at last.

"So, what position were you thinking of applying for."

"I already have applied." Max stated, to impress that this wasn't a circumstance of 'if's and 'but's. Fortress Maximus _would_ to being working at the end of the week, "Assistance Director of Security."

"Oh, alongside Red Alert? I hope you're up to the task. He's very meticulous."

"Great." Max ground out, meticulous apparently sharing it's meaning with paranoid and fussy, neither trait Max would consider to be a quality.

"Well Fortress Maximus, I'm sorry if you feel a little bit mislead but this isn't _just_ a typical Psychological Assessment." A little sympathy showed in Rung's face and a niggling worry that this wouldn't be his first and last hour alone with the psychotherapist squeezed Fort Max's tanks, "It seems that, following your revival, there are some things you and I should discuss."

There were five minutes to spare before the start of his shift, Ambulon always ensured he arrived at this time not to impress Ratchet but … maybe he did want to impress Ratchet a little. But the word was so cloying, _impress, _admitting to the fact would make Ambulon feel less of a professional.

Ratchet's tempter was notorious, Ambulon had heard about it from Pharma, stories of Ratchet's crotchety reputation had also eased their way into the Decepticon haunts as well. So Ambulon knew not to irritate him, sacrificing a few extra minutes of free time was a small price to pay or else he'd spend his shifts living in fear.

He arrived, stepping into the medical bay, ready to begin his afternoon shift. It was always a relief to not see his Senior Medical Officer hovering about like a threatening storm cloud and it was an even bigger relief to see all of the medical berths empty, for once. Autobots made drop in visits over the most trivial of matters, some of which Ambulon would've assumed any self respecting mech would be too embarrassed to groan over.

But no, they came anyway, shameless with their aches and pains, keeping Ambulon busy when he really needed a break and bored when he had too much time to fill.

"Have a good time last night?"

Forget the pleasantries, First Aid cut straight to the juicy stuff. Ambulon's body jarred, startled by First Aid swooping behind him so suddenly.

"Primus."

"Oh, feeling a little tender are we?" First Aid dug his fingers into Ambulon's side seams, frustratingly eager to speak to him now that none of his new Autobot friends were milling about. Maybe Ambulon was just a source of fresh gossip to bring to the drinking table after shifts.

"Well, considering I was recharging before you even got home last night I think you can answer your own question."

First Aid winced allowing Ambulon some room. Or maybe because he wasn't such a hot topic anymore Ambulon lost his appeal.

"What happened?" First Aid danced about as Ambulon trudged toward their combined office.

"What happened? I'll tell you what happened! You left me there, on my own for hours! How'd you think that makes me feel, First Aid?"

"You weren't on your own." It annoyed Ambulon more to find First Aid's reaction wasn't to apologise.

"Max came along later."

"Oh, 'Max' is it?"

"Shut up!"

First Aid sniggered, still trotting beside Ambulon, giddy and giggly and annoying. Ambulon sulked, knowing First Aid would hear what he wanted and ignore Ambulon's insisting that what happened between him and Max wasn't a big deal. Just two mechs having a pint and sharing stories.

"He's been really quiet since coming aboard." They were standing in their office with Ambulon bringing himself up to speed with the days events.

"What's wrong with quiet?"

"Nothing! But considering how, y'know, _explosive _he was coming online - I don't know, I suppose I'm just surprised at how introverted he is."

"Disappointed?"

"Just surprised."

Ambulon didn't believe that First Aid wasn't frustrated by his pet project. After spending many painstaking months restoring Fort Max, First Aid was ready to soak in glory and praise from the larger mech. He received no such thing, all the hard work left unacknowledged.

"Maybe I'll talk to him."

"He did say he was interested in speaking to familiar faces. Apparently he knows the Autobots on this ship but can hardly remember him."

This wasn't a jab at First Aid's skill, for the most part the restoration was flawless but what remained incomplete First Aid saw as a challenge to fix. There was nothing wrong in that, Ambulon presumed this was just talk and, with no one else in his life presiding as the appointed figural confidant that just left First Aid to share with.

"Keeping busy, Ambulon?" Ratchet's head was popping round their door, searching for his attendants who'd disappeared from the medical bay floor.

"Just prepping." Though he was never purposely surly toward his superiors, Ratchet encouraged Ambulon to reveal a dismissive streak in his personality by behaving unnecessarily condescending. According to an internal clock it was ticking one minute past the start time of Ambulon's shift. First Aid was never called to account for marginally deviating from schedule targets, which made Ratchet's lenience frustratingly biased.

"You can come back to that. There's a patient waiting for you. And you," The attention shifted and First Aid perked up, "Take your break now, stop distracting Ambulon."

First Aid didn't need much encouragement, all mech's skipped toward freedom at the end of shifts.

"So, are you going to see him again?" He called back to Ambulon, loitering in the door, itching to continue but not without his burning curiosity sated.

Gathering up a clipboard and tapping in a few keynotes Ambulon didn't look away from his work, demonstrating some perseverance to remain on task. It was for Ratchet's benefit, unfortunately the CMO had already slipped away.

"I wasn't _seeing_ him to begin with."

Nevertheless, First Aid urged him to make the effort, sounding dreadfully hopeful on Ambulon's behalf and following the abandonment of last night Ambulon supposed having an extra friend wouldn't harm.

A while after First Aid had shuffled away Ambulon also stepped out of the office. Across the medical bay was Pipes, he was sitting on the edge of the berth looking very uneasy, legs jiggling and hands constantly fidgeting. As soon as he spotted Ambulon Pipes straightened, stammering a few greetings and made a futile attempt at pleasantries which were interrupted by Ambulon's eagerness to cut to the point.

"I had a mishap with a laser."

Ambulon had already spotted the problem before Pipes pointed it out, there was a deep grove scourged across the red band of Pipes visor. When Ambulon asked him to retract it he saw the line cut through the glass of Pipes' optic as well, although it had been reduced to a hair's width.

"You were lucky." Ambulon muttered, examining the mark closely, too focused to feel heat bloom beneath his finger tips when he touched Pipes' face, tilting his head for a better look.

"I-I wouldn't say that…"

"But it could've been much worse." Torch light shone straight into Pipes' optic, constricting the mechanisms inside suddenly, "Everything looks fine inside, you'll just need the optic glass replaced - and the visor too. You're lucky because you didn't burn through your mechanisms."

Ambulon released Pipes' head, his focus dropped to a form brightening the data pad he cradled in the nook of his arm. Pipes' chin remained tilted by Ambulon's handling, he was as still as a mannequin, staring up at Ambulon even as his neck pistons began to ache.

"Oh."

"I can replace the lens for you now, or, if it's not causing you any irritation I can make an appointment for you to come back and have it replaced at another time."

"Oh, um," Pipes flinched back into a conscious state, snapping out of some kind of daydream, "N-Now. Now is good. Please."

The data pad was clutched under Ambulon's arm, he grunted an approval and disappeared into a storage cupboard in search of what he needed. Pipes remained seated, swinging his legs over the edge of the berth and staring about the room.

He was a very twitchy mech, Ambulon decided and so reminded him to remain still as he dragged a chair in front of Pipes and set about conducting what was considered to be a routine replacement among Cybertronians.

"I'm going to deactivate your optic now as a precaution."

"Okay." Pipes' reply was very timid. Once the optic glass had cooled sufficiently Ambulon went to work. Sliding in very close to Pipes, their knees slotting together incidentally as Ambulon worked for the best position at which to perform and keep his hands steady.

It was a good thing he'd deactivated the optic, in the corner of his sight he could see Pipes glancing about, and an active optic was much harder to operate on. But even as he concentrated the procedure was awkward and fiddly. The last time he'd installed a lens the canvas had been larger and easier to pick at. Fortress Maximus's optics had been completely removed - carved out - and Ambulon had to rebuild them from the inside, out. Sanding and straightening out rough metal to make the rotations seamless and non-sticking. It was a boring and intricate process but Ambulon was inwardly pleased with his work, especially after seeing them functioning and glowing last night.

"I never really got the chance to thank you properly." Pipes broke the silence and Ambulon had to pause, his needle-like utensils lingering close to the corner of Pipes' optic.

"Hmm?"

He couldn't work if Pipes wanted to talk and so sat back.

"Well I, on Delphi, you - you guys, looked after me and I just wanted to let you know I appreciate it."

"Thank you but I didn't do much. Ratchet brought you the cure." And before that Pharma responsible for synthesising it. Even when the Decepticons arrived it was First Aid that saved the day by attempting the impossible and succeeding - earning a reputation as cutting edge in Ratchet's view. Ambulon was fairly superfluous throughout the ordeal. His theory of their immunity to the infection flattened within hours of Ratchet being there.

"You all helped. I just… wasn't really thinking when I crashed through the door. Y'know new planet, new adventure and all that."

"Yes. Hold still please?" Ambulon had never been good at accepting praise, afraid it would open a door to overconfidence.

Pipes did as he was told but as Ambulon settled into position he sensed a wobble in Pipes' EM fields. The mech was trying to be sincere with him, Ambulon supposed he should spare Pipes' feelings because of that.

"You couldn't have known there was a _plague_ on the other side of that door." Never mind the giant, blood-red X scrawled upon the main hanger bay doors in a very spooky 'keep away' fashion.

There was another dip of energy current round Pipes' frame and Ambulon knew he was thinking the same thing, "And everything's fine now so I wouldn't think too much of it."

As Ambulon slipped back into a blanket of concentration he vaguely heard Pipes muttering.

"That's nice of you to say." But for the sake of making progress didn't respond and continued to work deftly and silently until repairs were totally complete and all Ambulon needed to do was snap the new visor into place.

"Okay try it." Pipes operated his visor, flicking it up and down a few times, his reactivated optic brightening and darkening in correspondence.

"It's great thanks!" He hopped off the berth as Ambulon went about reorganising the tools.

"Try wearing some goggles next time," He said absently, "Your optics suit you, replacing them would be a shame."

Pipes stiffened, his knees bowing together and doltish staring was of some concern.

"Was there anything else?"

It was a struggle for Pipes to string a few words together. Hot blasts of air puffed through his vents.

"Uhh, no. No! I'm good now, all better, thanks, thank you, Doctor." He blurted.

"I'm not a Doctor."

"Oh, why not?"

Ambulon looked away from his tools, a sharpness hardening his features, spurned by the negligence of the comment. Pipes stammered some more.

"Sorry! Sorry! I didn't - I, uh, I meant. N-Nevermind, thank you, _Ambulon_."

As Pipes squeezed past him still babbling desperate apologise Ambulon was struck by second-hand embarrassment that he could feel pulsing in Pipes EM fields. Taking pity he waved Pipes on, trying to set the 'bot at ease before he popped a relay. After he eventually left, and his profuse apologises died over the distance Pipe's travelled down the corridor, the med bay became very quiet and still. As though Pipes tumulus feelings had their own large presence in the room.

It was relieving to be alone again but the reprieve never lasted long. Between then and the time his shift was ending Ambulon attended the ails of another fifteen patients including Tailgate, who suffered a lack of natural oil to ease joint movement and Brainstorm, who'd managed to partially sever three finger tips after jamming them in the lid of his briefcase in a _momentary lapse of judgment._

Hours later his shift was finally at an end but with no sign of First Aid coming to relieve him of his duty Ambulon was stranded in the med bay, numbly roaming about and reordering things as he waited, intensely reviewing his internal clock as the minutes ticked on and on but First Aid still hadn't arrived.

Ambulon messaged him:

_(22:42) Ambulon: Where are you?) _

Another few minutes of Ambulon religiously checking his message inbox for a response passed there was still no indication that First Aid had even read his message.

Gingerly, he wandered to the doorway, stopping as close to the divider as possible, fearing crossing it would incur some kind of alarm (Or Ratchet's acute sense for an unattended Medical Bay)

Ambulon craned his neck forward, searching to the right then left of the corridor beyond hoping to see First Aid approaching, babbling some petty excuse at him. But there was still no sign of the nurse.

Ambulon frowned.

The weight of his foot felt heavy as he lifted it and dared to lower it again beyond the medical bay. With a swipe of his medical card key Ambulon locked up shop and checked the door once to ensure it was secure before setting out in search of First Aid.

His first stop happened to be his only stop.

First Aid was at Swerve's, his back facing the door, swilling half a cube of energon in vivid gestures as he spoke heartily to his company.

Fortress Maximus.

"…So, to recalibrate your spinal clamps we needed to first make sure the friction pads cushioning your vertebrae were topped up with pressure fluid, the pads are just these _bubble cushion_ things that take the weight of your body but, to get to them, we had to roll you over, which, let me tell you, is a nightmare when someone as **big** as you is unconscious, it took me and Pharma _and_ a service droid to lift you and then, all of a sudden, one of your break pads _popped_, fluid's going everywhere, all over Pharma"-

As Ambulon approached he heard First Aid rabbit on and barely hid his cringe. Sitting across the table Fort Max was looking haggard and unsettled, fingers squeezing at his cube of high grade and First Aid was utterly oblivious to how uncomfortable this conversation was.

"Oi!" Ambulon stepped up to the table, abrupt and angry, "Are you _forgetting_ something, First Aid."

"Oh hi Ambulon I was just"- Realisation was like a hard slap across First Aid's face. He shoved back from the table, rushing onto his feet, "_My shift!"_

"That's it!"

"_Frag it all." _First Aid threw the rest of his drink down his neck quickly, "Sorry Ambulon, sorry Max - I gotta go. Nice speaking to you though, let me know when you want me to dredge up your memory files!"

Ambulon glared at First Aid all the way out the door. The mech skittered off, completely unaware of the trouble he stirred.

The sound of cooling systems rapidly venting heat pulled Ambulon's attention back to the table. A powerful engine like the one built to sustain Fortress Maximus made a lot more noise when suffering undue stress.

"I'm sorry about him." Fortress Maximus's gaze flickered up to Ambulon's face then immediately back down, "He doesn't think before he speaks. Are you okay?"

Ambulon slipped into the seat opposite which happened to be the same seat he'd taken last night, trying to peek under the shadow of Max's dipped helm.

The energon cube in Max's hand was turned rapidly, and no answer came.

"First Aid… he, he has this stupid _thing, _he really likes the Wreckers - it's quite sad really. Since you've come into contact with them you're like walking memorabilia to him, he might be your biggest fan."

Max muttered something, so quietly Ambulon asked him to repeat it.

A _Trophy._ But Max didn't say it again.

"The Wreckers are a bunch of fakes."

Until now Ambulon had never heard an Autobot slight the Wreckers, they all wanted to _be_ a Wrecker or _frag_ a Wrecker - every single dreamer thinking they had what it takes to be noticed by the Warrior Elite.

"They saved you." 

It startled Ambulon when Fortress Maximus engaged suddenly, his optics - sharp and functioning - glaring into Ambulon's face.

"They saved Aequitas." He'd spoken too loudly - Fortress Maximus froze and his optics grew unfocused, fearing he had unintentionally grasped the attention of every Autobot in the bar.

Fortress Maximus brushed away the heat gathering behind his face plate, vents emitting small whining sounds as he attempted to control himself, the voice of his new psychotherapist ringing in his ears offering a step by step guide on how to calm down.

Apparently he had _violent _tendencies.

Snapping to his immediate defence had not helped.

"I just happened to be there." He muttered and Ambulon recalled, with deep sadness how Max looked lying on the operating slab - a terrible state of disarray that First Aid's account had forced Fort Max to relive graphically, "They came hoping the hype had died down, and found everything still burning. They couldn't just _waltz_ in an fire a few bullets, fixing things and soaking in glory like the normal do they…" Fortress Maximus's voice turned hoarse, "…It cost them worse than it cost me."

Ambulon had heard of those who'd lost their lives.

"It was a tragedy."

"It was a waste!" Fortress Maximus released the cube in his hands and flicked it away, Ambulon was unimpressed. Max grunted roughly and pulled the cube back. "…and it was a mess." He heaved air bitterly. Unsettled by his own reactions Fortress Maximus withdrew from the table, hiding his hands in his lap wishing he'd not been so brash.

"There was nothing you could have done." Ambulon was quietly spoken, remembering the twisted body prostate on Delphi Medical berth, utterly defeated and hopeless. It was the carelessness of that observation that drove Max away from the table shaking his head.

"What do you know?"

There was nothing Ambulon could say quick enough to bring him back. Fortress Maximus was stomping toward the exit, resisting the urge to run. He lurched into the corridor, following an ungainly momentum back to his Hab Suite.

It was hard for Ambulon to understand what he could've said so wrongly to force Maximus away like that. In the quiet that fell on him like the sweeping of a cold wind he reflected and frowned.

There wasn't anything he remembered saying that, in his opinion, he'd called offensive. But it was quite clear that he'd made a mistake somewhere and felt accountable for it.

It wasn't as much guilt as it was a sense of obligation that made Ambulon leave the bar then and trek over to Fortress Maximus's hab suite.

The trip didn't take long, he found his way there with no distractions giving him enough time to rehearse a little speech. He'd start by saying he didn't mean anything by what he said, whatever it was, and then hoped Fort Max would fill in the blanks of his understanding. Then, perhaps, Ambulon could be sincere.

Before turning into the corridor he was distantly aware of a garbled melody, by the time Ambulon arrived in front of Fortress Maximus's doorstep the sound was heavily throbbing through the walls.

So loud that when he pressed the Intercom the tone was overpowered.

"Max?" He called, a little sheepish about shouting for the other in a public space. For now the scene was deserted but there were invisible neighbours to consider, "Max?!" He called again, into the buzzer, louder this time.

Any life beyond the door was muffled entirely. The music played, a harsh calamity of sounds pounding away so loud that Ambulon didn't hear the door to his left open.

"It's no use." Brainstorm appeared, leaning out of the doorway with his arms crossed, "I've already tried. It's like this every night."

Ambulon stepped back, looking between Brainstorm and the door not sure of what to say and fumbling for excuses.

"I was… I was just… he seemed a bit edgy at the bar. I wanted to make sure he's okay." Ambulon felt a flush of heat filling his body, starting at his head and spreading. Brainstorm fortunately didn't thrive off Ambulon's self conscious. He shrugged,

"If you speak to him again, tell him to shut the frag up, it's really started to get on my nerves. I can't recharge with him yelling all the time. It freaks me out."

"Yelling?" Ambulon was taken back by the bluntness but that didn't tame his curiosity.

"Yeah." Brainstorm lifted his weight off the door fame, "Sounds like he's tearing the room apart somedays. I've tried to talk to him but he never answers, whether he can't hear me knocking over music I don't know."

"Oh…" Ambulon loitered, "I-I'll tell him when I see him next."

Brainstorm didn't look convinced.

"Sure." He kicked his foot across the floor idly, "Good luck with that." With a small nod he stepped back into his room.

Ambulon tried buzzing the intercom one more time. After receiving no answer again, he gave up.


	3. Chapter 3

There was only blackness and a creeping fear when Fortress Maximus woke, triggering the instinctive panic of not knowing where he was or what to expect and delusions of having to fight or flee. His music had reached its final track hours ago making the screen go dark and the dazzling spotlights had arrived at the end of their timer and deactivated.

A tightness plagued his chest. Lying down it felt like an anvil pressing him into the berth, sitting up remedied it. His body pulsing with feeling, overly alert for someone picking their way through a reboot.

The dream that set him on edge Fortress Maximus couldn't recall, to his relief. He didn't want to dredge it up and add a twisted parody of his unconscious memory to what he already remembered so graphically.

Shakily, he commanded the lights to activate. The room was brightened and his optics stung, aching more as he strained to keep them online, forcing them to adjust. The outlines of furniture were bleached and hard to look at before his focus returned, constraining colours and shapes until they stopped looking like waiting ghouls.

It had been another long night. Fortress Maximus was still tired and sickly feeling. The recharge adapters plugged into sockets dispersed about his body burned with built up energy. His constant disturbance activating and deactivating the plugs, the overlap of electricity that produced soaking to the plug circuitry, heating it enough to bubble the paint round sore apertures.

Fort Max saw the damage and hissed. Rubbing at the swollen marks didn't smooth it out, the area would need to be stripped and repainted.

That would be a frustrating and fiddly process for finger tips as large as his and as Fort Max agonised over how to remedy it the thought of someone who must have a lot of experience in this department floated into his mind.

Ambulon. The medic must be very knowledgable when it comes to touching up paint considering he seemed to have such a problem keeping it attached to his body. But as Fortress Maximus contemplated approaching him he supposed it might be a bit rude to draw attention to what might be a dermal condition. But why should he be concerned about being rude?

Surely it just be adding to an already existing list of poor temperamental traits Ambulon started gathering about him last night. Which reminded Max, he owed the mech an apology for that … and for not answering the door when Ambulon swung by a short time later, _checking on him_.

At the time, Max had been insulted. It started with the psychotherapist and spread to Ambulon, Fortress Maximus was afraid he'd soon have the whole ship pandering to him. Then everyone would know: what had happened, what he'd done…

No, he spurned the idea quickly. Save those gross thoughts for the night, then they couldn't affect his day. He needed to be firm with himself, to be _in control, _and distraction seemed to work best.

Under the bed he'd collected a storage container bulging with energon treats, the same brand the psychotherapist supplied to his patients. He heaved the container out and pawed inside. A fist full of empty wrappers lifted out on his first attempt, angrily, he cast them into the waste bin then dug deeper. Finally finding something edible. He took three packets, ripping one open as he kicked the container back under the berth.

The sweets were supplied rhythmically as his concentration was filled by the log-on screen in front of him.

A high desk and computer screen kept his back straight. Whoever allocated him the room had been very thoughtful of his size but Fortress Maximus paid little mind to that. He opened up his e-mail box and ignored the latest unread message. It was entitled, "Summery of Our Latest Session" and had the date marked next to it. It took Max a minute to figure out who _Rung_ was and then decided the e-mail could wait.

A second screen opened, on it a new, crisp template for writing. Max found Ambulon's personal address in the Lost Light directory and after popping a crunchy energon sweet between his denta got to work, immediately falling at the first hurdle.

The 'backspace' key was used most, every greeting seeming too formal or the opposite. Fortress Maximus had no idea how to start. He didn't even know what he was trying to say, as if the letter of apology was only the half the story.

_Dear Ambulon_

_To Ambulon_

_In regard to last night I want to apologise _

_Hi, sorry about last night, I was just tired, in the interest of making it up to you, can I buy you a drink later at Swerve's and then, maybe, we can come back to mine and frag like Petro Rabbits? Sound good? _

Fortress Maximus recoiled from the keyboard. Not sure why he'd felt the need to type that but what he wanted from the medic suddenly became clear.

Groaning, he stabbed his finger into the backspace key. The audacity of desire had no place in his body anymore. He watched the last characters of his sentence get deleted and felt relieved. But it apparently wasn't tthe kind of relief he needed…

Feeling embarrassed, Fortress Maximus scrubbed his hands down his face, took a deep breath and tried again.

_(13.18) Fortress Maximus: Hi Ambulon, sorry for storming off last night. I was just tired. Can I make it up to you by buying you a drink later at Swerve's?") _

Ambulon set down the textbook he was scrolling through and favoured his newest message. Just the seeing the address made his spark squeeze involuntarily. He quickly opened and read through it, an unfortunate vapour sheen dampening the back of his neck as he thought up a reply that didn't sound too eager.

(13.19) Ambulon: Sure, whatever suits you.)

The smiley face concluding the end of the message Ambulon replaced with a full stop.

Now the presentation was breezy, the representation of a calm collected mech, preoccupied with his studies.

…Except Ambulon could no longer concentrate on the medical text and must have read the same line at least three times already.

Luckily, his time in limbo didn't last long, the inbox of his personal messages was flashing again.

_(13.22) Fortress Maximus: When are you free?) _

_(13.22) Ambulon: My shift ends at 17.00.) _

_(13.23) Fortress Maximus: Should I meet you after work?)_

_(13.23) Ambulon: Yeah sure, see you then :) ) _

Too late! Ambulon wished he could call it habit when he sent the message before editing it. The stupid, rosy, unremovable smily face glared at him in all its embarrassing glory and Ambulon's insides churned in what was an agonisingly long wait for a reply. Lasting roughly a minute. But a very long minute none the less.

_(13.24) Fortress Maximus: Great :) ) _

A wheeze of relief billowed from Ambulon's vents but even with that out of the way he still couldn't concentrate.

"What're you grinning about?"

First Aid asked from across the room. The other medic was sat at his desk too, it faced Ambulon's and the nurse was preparing for their next shift together. Morning and middle shifts were always the busiest and the little extra revision Ambulon crammed in before the start of mayhem was always useful.

Unless he was too smitten to focus.

"Nothing!" He yelped in retort, surprised to learn his voice could get that high. First Aid peered at him knowingly.

"Right." He drawled and Ambulon had to endure little teases and taunts from the nurse until his shift ended. Much to Ambulon's annoyance, He'd never known a shift to drag so much. The influx of patients was mediocre, all their ails were quickly fixable with counselling or treatment so spent most of his undivided attention glancing at his reflection in shiny objects that wouldn't ordinarily be used as mirrors, wondering why he'd never bothered to fix his paint job. After briefly agonising he chastised himself, it wasn't important and he certainly shouldn't be getting this hung up over it. But still…

Ambulon looked at a wobbly picture of himself in the flat surface of a scalpel and his lips twisted.

There was nothing he could do about it now, even if time was rolling along at a snail's pace, whatever hope Ambulon might have entertained for a repaint had already elapsed.

Surely it wasn't normal to get _this_ hung up over a minor thing, it wasn't like Fort Max hadn't already _seen_ his paint. The mech already knew what to expect, Ambulon couldn't disappoint him… save that feeling for later. His own snark hurt, Ambulon chuckled in spite of himself, the cackling sound eventually dwindling to an apprehensive whine when he realised he only had five minutes of his shift remaining.

Anxiously, he tip-toed about the medical bay, forestalling all of his responsibilities as he counted down the last few seconds and then, dropped whatever he was holding and disappeared. Distantly hearing First Aid shout in surprise but it was too late to apologise because Ambulon was already out the door. On time, entirely punctual,

Just like Max, who was loitering at the other end of the corridor, kicking his peds across the floor and munching on a packet of sweets. When he heard Ambulon, he looked up and smiled, storing his snack in a compartment for later.

Trying to be nice and pleasant, Ambulon smiled back, then realised he must have looked rather goofy when his face didn't seem to relax. The expression broke finally after he cleared his throat, shifting away the tension and shuffling forward, his feet feeling heavy and knees a little weak.

"Hey,"

Fort Max nodded at him, and they began walking together.

"So, Swerve's?"

"If you like."

Ambulon was happy to agree with whatever Max suggested and followed making shy, minimal chatter along the way.

The table they'd sat at twice before was free, surprisingly, just minus one chair. Ambulon glanced about in a hurry to secure a new seat and was surprised to find Max already trudging toward him, grasping a chair for Ambulon to use.

They settled, swapping cautious looks and awkwardly began speaking at the same time. In a typically traditional to-and-fro cliché both insisted the other spoke first and ended up not saying much at all. Sighing and slumping, lips worrying and struggling to find a natural balance and constantly afraid of the other getting bored.

"Drinks?" Fort Max finally gathered his wits, drumming his finger tips on the table edge.

"Yeah! Um, do you want help carrying them?"

"No…um, no, it's fine." Max lumbered away, looking a little flushed and fidgety. Standing at the bar, slotted sideways between Dogfight and Trailcutter, Max glanced back at Ambulon and tried to smile. Too distracted by the hassle to notice Swerve had finished preparing the drinks, the two cubes being pressed into Maximus's hands. In the brief instance his attention to occupied with paying his fee, Fort Max's gaze was direct down and the whole layout of the room seemed to change and suddenly. When he looked back up, Ambulon wasn't alone.

The lanky frame everyone tended to avoid was hovering over their table. Whirl. Fortress Maximus didn't need to be told to avoid him. The mech was loud and coarse and, to his knowledge, crazy.

Whirl couldn't have been dancing round the table for long but Fort Max could already see Ambulon's shoulders were pitched uncomfortably, he sat stiffly, sniffing at everything Whirl whispered at him.

"Y'know he hates Decepticon's right? Some paint might scrape off when you're bumping uglies and show off your heretic badge."

"I am not a Decepticon." Ambulon hissed, as calm as he could be, fingers laced together and set in front of him on the table, wishing for something to clasp - his drink of something strong he longed for.

Whirl was keeping his tone low, but the exaggerated waver of his arm reeled in a few curious looks.

"But you are doing the do?"

Ambulon's hesitance was unexplainable. Although his mouth opened his gears locked prompting Whirl to called on a secondary source of information.

"Oi _Maxy!_" When Whirl straightened, Fortress Maximus was facing them, drinks held in both hands, a group of mechs gathered round him - not him specifically, they were headed for the bar. But they crowded him still, like a gaggle for keen poultry, jostling and bustling. Most hardly reaching up to Max's elbows. Whirl lifted his arms high in the air, as if Max would struggle to see his crude action of one hooked claw inserting into the other two, "Are _you_ and _him_…" No more needed to be said. Fortress Maximus saw Ambulon sink his helm into his hands and make muttered pleas for mercy from whatever Maker cursed them with Whirl.

All of a sudden the idea of a drink with a friend became too much. If it led to what Whirl insinuated in front of _everybody_ Fortress Maximus realised he didn't want it, earlier whims dammed and gone. Ambulon was embarrassed, probably wishing he hadn't bothered - Max continued leaving him in these situations; holding out hope for intimacy that was continually baited in front of him and then snatched back. This time it was to the knowledge of every present face at the bar. Faces that turned darker and duller in Fortress Maximus's eyes. The smell of fuel as heady as the tonics spilled over the bar, Fortress Maximus sunk into his own mind, eaten by sounds he couldn't make sense of.

As he stood, glazed and immobile, someone crashed into him, and Max stumbled, almost completely falling. One glass, his drink, slipped and shattered over his hip, the second cracked under his undue strength and fuel bled over his body, congealing in crevices the same colour as…as…

There was a cafeteria on Garrus-9. It remained as such even after the unthinkable happened and Fortress Maximus still visited it frequently. In chains.

It looked much like Swerve's, tables and chairs full of mechs all staring at him, saying mocking things because he wasn't allowed to move.

_Good pet. Obedient pet. Stay. _The manacles sapping strength from him would be undone fearlessly. He'd stop and stand, hobbling on a gamy leg. Even after the restraints fell away he did not feel the immediate rush of his energy returning to him. There was just hunger aching in his tank. A tank that was now overflowing with sweetness, the fuel Max had yearned for he now binged on and wasted - the smashed cube breaking on his body a familiar feeling.

He'd stand still, upright, a _good mech, a good pet_ and they would promise him treats for behaving but never the sorts of treats his starved systems pinged for and then _slap!_ Fortress Maximus remembered the dense feeling of energon splattering across his frame, thrown at him for afar. It seeped into his seams and pattered at his feet. _Don't eat it_ was the command. So Fortress Maximus didn't. Even as his mouth salivated and tanks urged him onto his knees to lap up precious, needed, fuel Fortress Maximus remained stoic to the disappointment of the Decepticons. Until their boredom grew and grew and the Decepticons came to him, hovering, swooping in too close, pushing and shoving like-

"_Whoa! _Sorry mech!" Someone touched his arm - a warm, broad clap of someone else's metal on his made Max flinch away. He wanted to brush it off, say it was okay, but it wasn't. Max could feel himself slipping. A glance at Ambulon and Whirl confirmed they were still staring, wondering what was _wrong_ with him, why hadn't he brought the drinks back, why wasn't he already buying replacements.

A rowdy hoot of laughter broke out somewhere at the back of the room. It had nothing to do with him and still Fortress Maximus couldn't ignore the sound or the thoughts it conjured. Memories of being a living decoration, hopelessly on display in the middle of the room, touched and groped, laughed at.

Fortress Maximus needed to leave. Now. Broken glass crunching underfoot as he stomped out of the bar, caught up in the eye of a tempest. Max lurched into the corridor possessed by the overpowering need to escape and vanish from the sound and chaos into the quiet. But his hab suite felt like it was miles away and he couldn't get there quick enough as if the tension coiled round his neck was tugging him back, gripped him tight and not letting go. It was so hard to swallow or see anything through the blindness of panic that Fortress Maximus staggered the hallways with one hand braced on the wall. Until eventually his feet faltered and Max lost his pace.

Slowly, his subdued rationality began poking holes in the fog keeping him from his bearings and through the puncture wounds oozed remorse.

There'd been nothing to run from. Just an accident; one too many drinks and a careless hand. Fortress Maximus couldn't believe his own thoughtlessness. Now everyone would be talking about him, theorising about his outburst, the whats and whys surfacing again and again in conversation to torment him all because he couldn't keep it together.

Eventually Fortress Maximus stopped entirely, in a quieter corridor. His arm was still pressed to the wall and soon after his head was resting there too, swimming with too much feeling, too many haunting sights that weakened his ability to trap the melancholy inside and not let it squeeze out as it had done at the bar as a horrible, wild, vomit of emotion.

"Max?"

His own name stirred a sense of unrest, even though he recognised the voice he couldn't risk trusting his intuition until he was peering at Ambulon over the corner of his neck.

Ambulon looked lost in the middle of the corridor, staring up at Max with wide, cautious optics like he totally didn't understand what had just happened and Fortress Maximus couldn't stomach the idea of giving an explanation.

Ashamed, Max tried to put distance between them, juddering further along the wall with his head stooped and optics dimmed sadly, too aware that Ambulon was catching up with him, buzzing like an anxious pest in the corner of his sight.

"What was that?" He asked, frowning. Fort Max didn't want to answer, the reply was twisting painfully in his throat, too thick to swallow and chewing on his lips put impressions in the metal.

Max shook his head, not ballsy enough to speak his mind, as muddled as it was. So Ambulon continued pestering unintentionally, too concerned to let Max make his journey alone.

"Was it Whirl?"

"It wasn't Whirl!" Snapping released some tension from round his neck briefly, and the relief made his shoulders ache. But Ambulon seemed more wary of him now, he was well out of reach and hopping from foot to foot, ready to run, "It wasn't Whirl." Max said again, quieter, resigning to his issues. Ambulon could see the layers of torment that kept building on his face and heard his systems whine, "Forget it, never mind."

"We don't have to stay at the bar." Ambulon put forward timidly, wanting to salvage something, "I've got some movies on a disk drive if you'd rather do that."

After failing to receive and invite to Rewind's movie night on three consecutive occasions Ambulon had given up and asked First Aid to bring him a few copies of Rewind's foreign film files. Ambulon had steadily been working his way through them, watching one before recharge each night, and in his expedition had stumbled upon a few gems he would be happy to share.

As Ambulon's hopes hung in the balance, Fortress Maximus glanced about him, mouth slightly agape, sucking in warm air.

"Actually, that would be nice." He didn't sound hesitant, but neither was his response forthcoming or gushing. Even though he was pleased with this new arrangement the after effects of panic still had an uncomfortable grip on him.

Once they got inside his hab suite, buried in the darkness, the grip eased slightly. Ambulon floated into the middle of the room, taking in all the little details. It smelled cosy, everything was in some sort of arrangement and neat.

"Waw." He commented, "This place is huge!" But it was really that surprising?

"Yeah?" Maximus replied like the size of his room was rarely noticed. The lights activated and Max began fiddling with the computer screen, adjusting it to face the berth that Ambulon was already sitting on. His back rested against the wall and legs drawn up. Max caught the data storage chip when it was thrown in his direction.

"Can you recommend something?" Max asked as he scrolled through a phenomenally long list of titles that were alien to him. Mostly because it was all foreign cinema. Ambulon just shrugged.

"I haven't watched most of them, stick anything on."

Max grunted and did his best to find something that looked interesting judging by the title and the thumbnail. Anything that previewed a graphic war scene: air collisions, gory violence, Max tended to avoid unconsciously.

The lights were dimmed and the title credits began to roll. The screen wasn't very large and when Max lumbered over to the berth he hid it entirely.

"Would you like something to eat?" He asked, pulling the vast energon container out from under his berth. Before Ambulon could answer a packet of Energon sweets landed in his lap and Max eventually arrived next to him holding three.

They sat only a few inches apart, frames not touching but Ambulon could feel the stroke of Max's EM fields over his. It had a warming, soothing feel, Ambulon swept his gaze over Fort Max's form, taking in details highlighted by the flicker of the computer screen.

"Y'know," Ambulon began, the film was still in his introductory face so he didn't feel too guilty about speaking over the music, "We don't have to go to the bar again, if it makes you feel uncomfortable." The impassiveness in his voice was meant to be reassuring, Ambulon kept his gaze on the screen, if Fortress Maximus didn't find the bar agreeable they just wouldn't go there, they were harmless terms to agree to.

Max's hands curled round the wrapper of his snack.

"It shouldn't make me feel…" He drifted off, the words to pathetic to form.

"But if it does." Ambulon said, firmly, twisting so his body was facing Maximus even if he was still staring at the computer screen, "We don't have to go there. We can just do this."

Now Max was taking his turn to look over Ambulon, noticing the smallest of smirks tugging on the other mech's lips.

"Thanks." He muttered and Ambulon nodded.

"It's no problem."


	4. Chapter 4

Saying goodbye was a strange, one-sided experience after the movie had finished.

Earlier Fortress Maximus had started to feel tired. The darkness of the room, the softness of Ambulon's presence and the voices mumbling in the movie lulling him. It gave him a sense of security he hadn't felt in a long while. He was peaceful and Ambulon was too wrapped up in the plot unfolding in front of him to be disturbed by Max's ventilations getting heavier and less controlled.

The movie ended and faded to black, Ambulon was left frowning, his chin wobbling against his knee.

"I don't get it." He announced, many questions regarding the twist at the end stinging him with disappointment. They'd swapped comments throughout most of the feature, nearing the end scene Fortress Maximus had dipped into absolute silence and Ambulon had assumed the mech was deeply concentrating. Then a waft of air exhaled heavily buffeted Ambulon as he swivelled his cheek on his knuckles, looking back at Max and saw him exhausted and slumped in a power conserving stasis.

Little twitches disturbed the mech, his fingers curling and flexing, Ambulon couldn't imagine why Max looked so worried even in his stasis. But waking the mech seemed cruel so, with great care, Ambulon shifted off the berth, avoiding the noisy wrappers of the copious amount of energon sweets they'd consumed, shifting a few of them into the bin, the rest were tucked under Max's bulk.

He stood with his shadow cast ghoulishly over Max's sleeping shape, spread by the glow of the end credits rolling behind him. Max twitched again, a flash of white denta appeared and bit deeply into his bottom lip, a sharp pulse of fear irradiated the room as his EM field went unchecked. The weight of fervent electrical current itchy and heavy on Ambulon's shoulders making him decided he should leave and give Max his privacy. He'd message him on the morning to assure him there was no harm done.

As a show of good faith Ambulon dug out the recharge connectors from a box at the foot of the berth. Long cables uncurled like thick black snakes, slithering and tangling round the corners of Max's frame as Ambulon dragged them across his body and sunk each long, tapered prong into the appropriate port.

There was a port embedded in his hip, under his arm pit and last one Ambulon struggled with was hidden behind Max's head, on the long stem of his neck. In his efforts to reach it Fortress Maximus's weight toppled against Ambulon, nearly collapsing him.

The paint round each aperture was warped and boiled, a medic knew that was a sign of disturbed recharge cycles. Ambulon resisted the urge to stroke over the uneven blemishes, at least he knew Max's unexpected stasis was liked because he was heavily fatigued and not because he was bored.

After fumbling a little, the last recharge connector dipped into its house and Ambulon rearranged Max against the wall, easing out from under him.

Energy trickled into Max's body and he slumped comfortably, his chin propped on his collar, ventilations becoming rougher and deeper as he sunk further into the darkness of his head. Ambulon didn't stand and stare too long, he crept quietly out the room, strangely invigorated and warmed by the image of Max dozing.

In the corridor, he kept his head drooped, pretending to fiddle with a lose joint in his knuckles to avoid making contact with Brainstorm. The mech was approaching him, he'd swung into the corridor as Ambulon had closed the door on Fortress Maximus.

Pebbles sunk to the pits of Ambulon's tanks, the physical presence of anxiety, being seen leaving Maximus's hab suite was like being caught committing the walk of shame. He pretended not to notice Brainstorm pausing as Ambulon wandered past, looking back and evaluating Ambulon's shapes for dents and paint transfers.

Good luck spotting anything like that between what's already there. Ambulon scowled, lifted his head and continued home.

There were so many things Ambulon wasn't aboard the Lost Light or had never been, one of those things was popular but that was never of any particular concern to him. Unlike First Aid, Ambulon was usually content to sit alone during his evenings, finding purpose with his studies. However, one little smidgen of gossip and suddenly he was noticing the difference. People were interested in him, looking him over with curious eyes and wondering what a behemoth, a war-legend, a, to be painfully blunt, _attractive_ mech, like Fortress Maximus, could possibly see in weedy little Ambulon.

As usual nobody approached him outright, but Ambulon was sensitive to the heat. Even though he had no evidence to suggest their supposed attention was anything but proof of his paranoia, later, when Ambulon was sitting quietly in his office, reviewing catalogues and reading deeper into vexing medical ails, First Aid sneaked up behind him and dropped a weighty datapad directly on top of Ambulon's research.

He startled back, shoving himself away from the desk, the back of his chair clipping First Aid with such force it crumpled him and the mech floundered about on his knees in exaggerated pain.

Ambulon calmed himself and readjusted, reeling his chair back into the desk.

"Stupid!" He cut off First Aid's excessive groaning.

"You weren't supposed to do that!"

First Aid's peril went uncomforted, Ambulon was skimming over the topic title blazing in the middle of the illuminated screen dumped in front him, mumbling the words aloud,

"Patient files; Subject: Fortress Ma- _First Aid!" _ Ambulon was roaring, spinning sharply on the chair, baring down on First Aid cowering on the floor as if to inflict further harm.

"Wait! Wait, wait!" First Aid raised his hands, shying behind them for protection, "Just hear me out!"

"There's _nothing_ happening between myself and Fortress Maximus!"

"I never suggested"-

"Then what's this?!" Ambulon rejected the data pad, throwing it back at the other mech. First Aid didn't catch it and a chip of cheap alloy splintered at the corner.

"People've been talking."

"I don't care what people say!" Ambulon snapped, getting defensive and First Aid carefully picked himself and the data pad up, off the floor, still bowed, looking semi-apologetic.

"Alright! I just thought, _just in case_, you should have a little recap… it might make you think twice."

Ambulon glowered at the insensitivity, Max didn't deserve to be friendless just because of a few conditions. Ambulon remembered in what condition Fortress Maximus arrived to Delphi, remembered it too well. The sight had been unbearable, the smell even worse! All the gross little surprises they uncovered in him made the job get more revolting by the day and that was _before_ they began prying off his armour.

By chance, an alert jolted Ambulon. A new message, from Maximus.

First Aid was gazing at him, the glare of his visor knowing and irritating. Ambulon snatched the data pad back off him without another word, angrily twisting back to his desk. Setting the data pad aside as if to review it later when he wasn't so preoccupied with his studies.

"There is _nothing_ going on between us." Ambulon reiterated, angry that the whole ship thrived off making awkward assumptions, "You can pass that on to all your little Autobot friends."

First Aid sniffed,

"I'm sorry, since when did you start existing _outside_ the Autobot bracket?"

If there was something sensible to say back it couldn't compete fast enough with the reflexive and distressed 'shut up' that shot out of Ambulon's mouth.

Waving Ambulon off with a flippant hand First Aid left him in favour of his rounds. Ambulon grouchily buried his head back in his work, lips pulled into a thin line of displeasure until he was distracted by the blinking notification at the corner of his processor reminding him of his promising new message.

While he navigated the path toward that message Ambulon's finger rubbed over the bezel edging the Patient Profile.

_(11.10) Fortress Maximus: I feel bad asking this but, how did the movie end?)_

Ambulon very nearly chuckled, maybe he would've if the spleen gurgling in his tanks wasn't still hot.

_(11.17) Ambulon: Badly, but don't worry about it.) _

_(11.18) Fortress Maximus: It won't happen again.)_

_(11.18) Ambulon: Again? Are we watching another film?)_

_(11.19) Fortress Maximus: Yeah, you're coming over tonight aren't you?) _

_(11.19) Fortress Maximus: If you like, I get it if you're busy.) _

Ambulon got the impression the consequential message was added in some haste. As Ambulon composed his reply, the finger stroking over the data pad spun the device in closer, favouring it to the medical text.

_(11.20) Ambulon: I'm working the night shift tonight, I could come over tomorrow?) _

This time there was a pause, slightly longer than usual, the flow interrupted by disappointment Ambulon sensed and felt a strange nagging need to see Fortress Maximus anyway.

_(11.22) Ambulon: Or I could drop off the data disk to you now and you could watch the end. We could watch another film tomorrow)_

It didn't take much to figure their meetings revolved less around watching films and were more about squeezing in as many hours together in a day as possible. Ambulon was pleased when his excuse to see Fortress Maximus was gleefully accepted.

_(11.22) Fortress Maximus: That'll be great. I've got a psych appointment at 14.00 can you come over before then?)_

The additional reading on Max's profile grew in necessity. Ambulon started flipping through the logs, bypassing the mundane physical factors like, height, alt mode, weight, colour, Ambulon delved into the harsher facts. Until Delphi Fort Max's medical history was sparse, the odd replacement part was required infrequently, the dates indicating such procedures were usually carried out after a battle. Then there was Garrus-9 and Ambulon had never seen a medical file look quite as grizzly.

_(11.22) Ambulon: Hasn't he cleared you for duty yet?) _

Something inside Ambulon regretted asking that question. It was like he'd made a mistake he couldn't be punished for but Fort Max would feel the brunt of its impact. The more he read the more he was reminded why the command officers were reluctant to assign Max to any duties and let him continue merrily.

A full body sketch lit up the home screen, all of Fortress Maximus's current on-going treatment highlighted by amber arrows jabbing toward the areas connected to the issues. Ambulon rubbed his thumb over Max's blank expression in the sketch. There were at least three orange arrows.

_(11.24) Fortress Maximus: It's a long story. When do you think you'll be over?)_

Ambulon's lips twisted, his sympathy for the other mech boundless.

_(11.25) Ambulon: Give me half an hour. Do you want me to bring you some lunch?)_

The arrows projecting gaudily at Fortress Maximus's interface equipment were offensive, as if making a mockery of seriously damage in sensitive and private areas. The arrow stabbing into Fortress Maximus's chest just made Ambulon sad and a little afraid to investigate. He recalled one night of Delphi, when First Aid returned home looking shaken, usually the nurse was jovial, especially after a day idled on his pet-project, but that night he was seeking high grade and distraction. First Aid told Ambulon it took a really sick mech to defile a spark. Fortress Maximus must have had the misfortune of encountering the worst of them.

_(11.26) Fortress Maximus: Yes please, see you soon :) ) _

_(11.26) Ambulon: KK :) ) _

Ambulon leaned back and the chair creaked, the data pad still in his hand, resting upright on the edge of the desk. Fortress Maximus's face stared outward, looking more and more like it was scowling, angry that his personal details were being read. Ambulon sighed, his curiosity tussled with righteousness.

Fortress Maximus wouldn't like him looking at these. Ambulon could imagine the dread in his expression if he ever found out his intimate details were logged on one flimsy data-pad and distributed.

Ambulon shouldn't be reading this…

The data pad was dropped and then picked back up, Ambulon scowled.

He was medical staff but Fortress Maximus was not his personal responsibility. Therefore he should pretend the data pad never fell into his possession, file it away and never go looking for it again.

Except, Ambulon's thumb was already pressing over the icon highlighting Max's spark casing and the next page was loading on the screen.

A list of just two words dropped down, the medical term of something that would be meaningless to anyone who wasn't medical staff, most existing outside that bracket referred to it as the Weeping Spark. That was if they wanted to acknowledge such a thing existed.

It was a condition contracted in ever specific way that Ambulon _really_ did not want to think about and now he'd made himself very uncomfortable

The data pad was thrust to the other side of the desk and stayed there. He fidgeted, wondering what he was getting himself into. Or maybe, one day, as he fantasied of enormous tank treads and strong hands, letting into him.

_Uhhh!_

Before he fled his office, Ambulon dumped Max's profile back on First Aid's desk, hoping an unchallenged 'No Thank You' would be sent.

He did as promised and collected them both some fuel from the refectory before tromping down to Max's hab suite realising along the way that he'd forgotten the memory stick containing his horde of films. After his pace slowed to an unsteady wobble, it dawned on Ambulon soon after that he didn't have the memory stick because he'd forgotten to take it from Max's the previous night.

Even though his trip now seemed redundant Ambulon continued to Fortress Maximus's hab suite anyway, silently praying that he wouldn't bump into Brainstorm again.

Max was waiting for him, when Ambulon explained what he'd done Max glanced back at his desktop computer and sure enough, there was the stumpy black body of Ambulon's memory stick jutting out from the side of the machine.

"Oh yeah," Max commented, taking his ration off Ambulon's hands and inviting him into the room.

Ambulon complied without thinking, already getting comfortable.

"Sorry I fell asleep on you last night." Fortress Maximus muttered into his energon, swirling the cube's contents, waiting for it too cool.

"S'alright. You didn't miss much."

"Yeah but…" Max looked at him apologetically, Ambulon nudged him with an elbow.

"It's fine."

And they both drank.

"…" A question hung on Ambulon's breath, he pondered whether it was a good question to ask but eventually asked it anyway, "So, how come you still have to see Rung?"

"Who- oh! Uhh," The large slats of Fortress Maximus's vents slopped down, "It's… it's complicated, he doesn't think I'm…" Fortress Maximus bit his tongue, afraid of saying too much but tired of saying nothing at all. Thinking about the session at large gave him feelings that were hard to contain. Things he was too embarrassed to get off his chest even though he needed to.

"He doesn't think I'm fit to work. Not yet. 'Soon' he says but… I don't know. It's hard to say."

Thoughts of the medical profile kept nagging at Ambulon's mind, making him sound very trite when he responded.

"I'm sure it'll only be a matter of time." Though he couldn't speak for the kind of issues Rung investigated Ambulon knew time had no remedy for was listed in Fortress Maximus's file. He was sure Fort Max knew that too, and so the awkwardness swashed between them as they swilled their cubes.

When they finished their energon Max pulled more sweets from under the bed, offering a packet to Ambulon. '_Afters'_ he called them and even when Ambulon declined Fort Max insisted he take one. Ambulon supposed it was Max's way of saying thank you. He'd looked somewhat hurt when Ambulon had first said no, making Ambulon feel obliged to guiltily accept the offer the second time.

"I have to leave soon." Muttered Fort Max. Ambulon stared, "I don't want to."

As much as Ambulon wanted to suggest that Max stay with him with the prospect of another film to watch serving as temptation, as a professional, Ambulon knew that wasn't an option.

"It'll be fine." Ambulon assured, but Fortress Maximus stubbornly refused to be comforted.

"I don't like the questions he asks, I never know how to answer them."

"What sort of things does he ask?"

Fortress Maximus looked at Ambulon, optics sloping and drained.

"Questions like that." Things that were too personal, to private. Fortress Maximus slumped and shook his helm, "Sorry."

"It won't last."

There was a deepness to Max's expression when he stared, making Ambulon feel like he knew nothing at all.

"Yeah." Fortress Maximus eased off the berth, physically pulling out of the conversation. Ambulon followed.

"Mind if I walk with you?" There was a great deal of free time between now and Ambulon's next shift. Fortress Maximus didn't object. In fact he seemed pleased, and kept his finger pressed to the door controls, effectively holding it open for Ambulon to walk through.

Rung's office was several decks apart from them, Fortress Maximus walked sluggishly and still Ambulon was nearly jogging to keep the pace.

"He's always fussing when I get there," Max explained, getting riled, "Always unprepared, you'd think he'd gather everything together before hand."

"Heh, if you think he's bad I'm glad you're not my patient."

"You can't be worse than First Aid."

While he laughed, it struck Ambulon that that might have been the nicest compliment anyone had ever paid him but, not want to look pathetic, refrained from saying so.

At Rung's office, the psychotherapist welcomed Max in with a warm smile. To Ambulon, it felt strange to be waved off by both of them, even Max felt a little embarrassed that he'd actually made Rung wait for him.

Fortunately, Rung was infinitely amicable. He told Max not to worry but in a way that implied Max should make more effort to arrive on time in the future. However, even with the extra spare minutes, Rung still spent a portion of the session gathering up his notes.

Fortress Maximus's fingers bit into the berth, agitated before Rung could even begin asking questions.

"Ambulon's a nice mech." Fortress Maximus had fallen into trap, what he mistook as small talk was actually Rung beginning their session.

"Yeah. He is."

"Have you know him very long?"

"Only since I've been aboard the ship."

"So you two first met on Delphi."

It wasn't really a meeting but Fort Max grunted anyway and then Rung asked, in a vague way, why Fort Max preferred Ambulon's company to other mechs, meaning the mechs who may have played a role in his life before.

"Dunno, he's nice. He's quiet."

"And you feel like you need a calming presence in your life?"

That was what they called a leading question, Max realised. He'd never gone looking for, as Rung put it, a 'calming presence' but now that he thought about it, Max realised he would prefer to spend his time with someone laid-back instead of the rowdy crowds he might have once integrated himself with.

"What would you say your relationship is like with him?"

The word and all its context made Max splutter,

"We - we don't have a _relationship_."

"Ambulon's your friend isn't he? Isn't friendship a relationship?"

"I suppose… if you want to call it that. But that's it. That's all. I'm sure you've read my medical text, you know I can't…" Speaking about it made Max so uncomfortable he stopped. He didn't notice how his legs unconsciously squashed together, but Rung did.

"I never insinuated Maximus. But it's reassuring to see you grounding yourself."

"Reassuring enough to clear me for active duty?"

Rung just smiled.

"So what do you want to talk about today, Maximus?"

"Isn't that your job to decide?"

"Not necessarily, I'm here to support you."

"Support me with what?"

"Anything, everything," Rung exclaimed, "Whatever is bothering you, I am here to listen."

"Why would you think something is bothering me?"

The data pad Rung regularly scratched notes into was pressed into his lap, Rung leaned forward in his chair, helm dipped into Fortress Maximus's sight, his expression filled with concern.

"You were on Garrus-9 for more than three years, Maximus, after the Decepticons overrun it, that is likely to have taken its toll on you, whether you acknowledge it consciously or not."

The duration was far more specific than that in Fortress Maximus's mind. His optics flickered offline and he breathed deeply.

"Max?" Rung had called him twice already and Max couldn't answer. It was still so early in their session and Fortress Maximus was already finding it difficult to remain in the room. Things would only get worse. Rung was intent on prompting him, claiming there was no rush and then hounding him for more information. Even talking about mundane things turned malignant, his favourite sport somehow relating back to the bloodthirsty pit fights and so on. Everything amounting to a fear so tightly coiled round Fortress Maximus's spark he found it hard to function.

"Fortress Maximus?" Using his full name meant Max was being particularly unresponsive. He'd curled forward, teeth locked together, trembling.

Rung had asked about the Aequitas Chamber.

"No!" Max blurted, very harshly, "Stop!"

Rung eased off but made a note. Fort Max saw his hands scrawl something, something Rung would obviously refer to in the future. Already Max dreaded hearing those words again. He wouldn't talk about Aequitas, he would not! No matter how friendly the voice, he would not talk, he would not _think _about Aequitas.

The next thing he knew, his own hands were grabbing at his helm searchingly. Looking for evidence of his lobotomy to prove this was reality and not another illusion like he'd suffered before. There'd been decoys and lies in his hellhole of obscurity; tricks to make him think he was secure and then the smallest chink in his armour was ratcheted open and Fortress Maximus was lain exposed.

"NO!"

Something moved beside him. Max caved in, head buried in his arms, bowed against his knees. Rung rose out of his seat just to kneel in front of Fortress Maximus, coaxing Max out of his shell with soothing words and kindness. It wasn't enough. Max was trapped in a waking riga mortis, systems roaring in distress.

_Don't ask about Aequitas. Don't. _

"It's alright, it's alright." Rung kept telling him in an explicit and clear voice, "You are here, aboard the Lost Light, with me, Rung - you do not have to answer any of my questions. You're alright Fortress Maximus. You are safe."

Max cried a harsh bleat of static, his helm crashing against the spindly shoulders of the psychotherapist. Panting hard with his jaw hanging slack, Max's digits drove into his helm - the pressure hurting but it made him feel real.

Jumbles of syllables, not quite words, shock Maximus's voice. The question still antagonising him. _Think about Aequitas, Think, Think! Or they all die._

It wasn't real, Fortress Maximus had to believe it wasn't real. In the dimness of his mind, like a far away echo, he realised this wasn't helping his plea for a position aboard the ship. Max's attempts to correct himself turned more focused. Slowly becoming more aware of where he was and it wasn't Garrus-9.

The pressure biting into his cranial eased, fingers joints full of hot fluid.

Rung kept talking, gradually becoming more placid and staying knelt in front of Max long after their scheduled hour together had passed.

"Breathe." Rung ordered him, collected Max's unravelling parts and knitted them back together without touching him. Using his voice alone he steadied, Fortress Maximus's quivering nerve.

"No more." Max hissed, breathless and shaken but the warning in his voice remained very real.

Their session was done. Rung had to move back or else be pushed aside. Fortress Maximus was on his feet and, as soon as he could, left, avoiding Rung's concerned stare. It was just a blip, it wouldn't happen again. Max would be okay, _he was fine_.

As he escaped the tiny office the idea of returning to his hab suite didn't even compute, Fort Max staggered through the hall ways headed else where in a long, criss-cross pattern across the ship feeling unstoppable, the bleakness of his anger overwhelming.

Even with his sense of direction impaired, Fortress Maximus's found himself arriving at a very specific place and Ambulon was surprised to see the enormous mech wobbling on the other side of his hab suite door..

Clearly something was very wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

The smell of the Medical Bay followed the medics home. Fortress Maximus was crunched forward on the edge of Ambulon's berth, sitting in the chemical haze of antiseptic and potent cleaning agents. A shard of light lanced in through the gap in the doorway - Ambulon was casting his shadow through it and blocked the view of Ultra Magnus on the other side. Which was fine because Fortress Maximus didn't want to be seen by Ultra Magnus either - that's why he'd left Ambulon to deal with him.

Ultra Magnus had come by shortly after Maximus had sought refuge in Ambulon's company. His appearance made the energy in Max circuits anxiously hop down his spine, Fort Max supposed it was by Rung's judgment that Ultra Magnus should pay Max a visit. He wondered if the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord had searched for Max at his own hab suite before tracking him to Ambulon's. It was too easy to imagine what kind of suspicions that would conjure. Luckily, Fort Max knew Ultra Magnus was too proud to gossip.

When he spoke with Ambulon he was forthright, Ambulon was a little more evasive, swinging in the doorway using the panel an a screen and not letting Ultra Magnus see any more of Maximus other than his boot.

If Ultra Magnus wanted to speak with Maximus he wouldn't be stepping inside the room without an invitation.

Fortress Maximus listened, a bag of nerves jiggling in his gut as he was made to regret everything he'd done so far. Ultra Magnus was trying to recommend he accompany Max elsewhere for the benefit of Ambulon's safety. As a Decepticon convert, Ambulon found the sentiment bemusing, should he be flattered the Autobot commander had the capacity to consider his on going well being? Or, wounded that Ultra Magnus thought Amulon wasn't capable of dealing with far worse?

Ultra Magnus also appeared incapable of deciphering such feelings. He eventually left the doorway mumbling, assuring Ambulon that should he be needed, all Ambulon had to do was call.

Ambulon nodded him off with similar wisdom then closed the door.

At once Fortress Maximus's gaze fell to his lap, his hands rubbing together. For a while Ambulon didn't move from the door and Maximus grew fidgety. All his explanations were lost and he wouldn't risk babbling.

"If you don't want to tell me what happened that's up to you… but give me some warning the next time you pull a stunt that brings the Big Guy to my door… Magnus is…" Admitting how intimidating the huge Autobot was, was too unmechly, "I don't want to be put in the brig." Ultra Magnus's authority along with the length and breadth of his titles was too much authority for a normal mech to comprehend.

Max sat, as quiet as a shadow in the corner, Ambulon could gather up textbooks in preparation for his impending duty shift and go on believing there was a hulking mannequin huddled on his berth and not a mech.

"Rung asks too many questions." The blurt of contemptuous feeling was sudden, stopping Ambulon abruptly, his grip slackening on the data pads, abandoning them on the work bench.

"It's his job to ask questions." He turned to Max and spoke flatly, his purpose fell to being the rational voice in the room.

Stung, Max shifted inward, hands clutched in his lap. Ambulon sighed in sympathy and exasperation.

"Maybe if you told him to"-

"He doesn't listen!" Maximus snapped, helm lifting up and his optics glistened despairingly, "He thinks he knows best - If he'd just _let_ me work I wouldn't be sitting here, I wouldn't be wasting your time!"

"You're not wasting my time."

"I am though! I'm always…" Realising how outspoken he was being, Fortress Maximus closed his gaping mouth and receded, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Ambulon's patience stretched thin, he stood in front of Max, beguiled by the mech's emotion and dissimilarly growing tired of it. Tired of receiving chunks of woes with no real foundation or explanation.

Fortress Maximus sat almost still.

"For not being normal."

"What? You are normal!"

"You were on Delphi when I was _transferred _there." Because what other way could he describe his arrival? He was dumped on their doorstep most likely, reeking of decay and immobile, shipped about like bothersome cargo.

"Yes." Ambulon's piqued optics flashing then lowering, watching Max anxiously scrub his knuckles over the flat surface of his thighs.

"So y-you saw…" He was looking at Ambulon, lips rounding as he pulled in a gasp, thick hands rubbing against his even thicker steel chest plate. Fortress Maximus whined and covered his optics in the heat of one palm.

They were quiet and then,

"Tell me you've thought about it, because I do - all the fraggin' time."

Ambulon jarred,

"Max?!" As if he was totally oblivious and so out of his depth Ambulon risked drowning when he scooted next to Max, hands hovering, already feeling like he was too close. The situation was raw and unfixable. A sense of duty stirred in Ambulon. As it grew it blurred the boundaries of pity.

"That's why I have to keep seeing Rung… b-because I failed _them_, I failed everyone!" Rasps of anguish roughed the edge of Max's voice, and Ambulon finally had the confidence to press his hand on Max's shoulder, feeling worries vibrating through the contact, "I can't get over it."

"You did not fail anyone, the Autobot's failed you!" Ambulon sternly intervened, bending forward, nearer Max's bowed helm, trying to see his face when he felt the Autobot tense. It was a bold new angle to him, the idea made Max feel staggered and haunted as though the weight of his self blame was being shared, the buck passed on, his fists clenched.

"They were too slow," Ambulon went on, spurred by his own anger, "They left you fighting incalculable odds alone. _Nobody_ wins against Overlord! They let you down Max, this was not your fault!"

Too blinded by a red mist resembling an Autobot badge, Ambulon missed the gag tugging on Max's throat tubing at the mention of the monstrous name spat so heedlessly. Fortress Maximus's arms curled round his middle, locking the sickness inside as he stared hollowly at the floor.

"I didn't get a message out in time, I didn't"-

"Don't blame yourself! They let you down. _They _broke their promise to you, _they_ failed in their duties."

A new expression came to light as Ambulon's words took hold. The chains imprisoning him to he guilt gnawed and chewed through. Large hands twitched as what he was told started to make sense and the blame that heckled him day and night shed a ton.

"They did?"

"Yes." The activist in Ambulon speaking up, his intolerance of losses deemed acceptable by the banners mechs pledged their lives to burning like an inferno at the back of Ambulon's processor. "And no distinction or cushy military pension will excuse them. You deserve better."

The idea of seeking justice from the web of Autobot figureheads was already making Max look exhausted so Ambulon's hand gave him a squeeze.

"We'll beat this Max."

Though his hand stroked off Max's shoulder he had the Autobot's attention. Max twisted in his defensive crouch, staring up at his company.

"W-We?" His lip components shook with breathy reverence, Ambulon couldn't recognise the trust that had just been instilled in him, exclusively, so just smiled back in a facsimile of the gentle, counselling expression Rung had mastered.

"Yea"-

They were interrupted by a hammering on the door followed by many urgent buzzes on the controls.

"Ultra Magnus?" Max murmured but Ambulon was frowning, unconvinced. They were both highly curious to know why it was Drift standing on the opposite side of the door looking unusually flustered.

Ambulon glanced back at Fort Max, who shrugged. He'd already had one impromptu visitor, that was one more than he'd ever had coming to see him since he'd joined the Lost Light. Warranting two house calls in one day seemed to be very unlikely odds.

"Is everything alright?" Drift ask warily.

Ambulon frowned.

"Should it not be?"

"There were reports of a - um - disturbance…"

A low growl rolled from across the dimmest corner of the room.

"Ultra Magnus has already taken care of that, thank you."

Until then Drift hadn't noticed Fortress Maximus lurking. Ambulon took two calculated steps sidewards side to give Drift a healthy view of Maximus's irritable face.

"_Ultra Magnus_!" The squawk of surprise startled them all, "He spoke - he - he, he came here, to you?"

"Rung sent him," Ambulon supplied and Max looked away, arrogantly turning his nose up, "But we're fine now, both of us."

"Are you fine? I mean… are _you_ okay?" Drift still seemed unsettled by Maximus, Ambulon gaze flicked down and saw Drift's fingers curling over his sword hilts.

"Yes."

Max snapped back sharply, squinting at the _Decepticon_ still taking up space in Ambulon's door. Drift stood with the pressure on one leg, showing off the affluent contours of his shape, swaying a little, probably not even aware of his display or how others' keen eyes licked over his frame. But certainly aware of the power his endowments possessed.

A bizarre knot of intensity kneaded the soft fibres inside Max's middle. Simultaneously, as he started comparing the likeness of the two mechs in the door he wanted Ambulon to return to him. Closing the door on the Deception ilk. But then he'd lose sight of the light playing over the edges of Ambulon's frame and it seemed a crime.

Unlike Drift, there weren't any delicious curves or affluent quality of charm, what Fortress Maximus saw, he got. All the boxy shapes and sharp angles, the pensive face and steady hands. That was Ambulon. He didn't mind it.

Finally the door was closed on Drift and the lighting squeezed down to something cozy and moody.

"That was strange."

Even when he was being thoughtful Ambulon didn't look particularly rugged, the only feature giving him an edge of dignity were the weary, hard-worked lines drawn thickly down Ambulon's cheeks. The mark of a long day and an even longer life.

"Is something the matter?" Ambulon caught Max by surprise, like the other mech wasn't aware of how obviously he was staring. Fortress Maximus noticed how Ambulon's eyes dimmed and they dropped to Max's lips and then further, there was an intensity to the action and right then Fortress Maximus was certain they both had one thing on their mind.

But he cleared his throat. Large blue hands curled and uncurled twice.

"How did they let a Decepticon on board?" He groused, rhetorically. Ambulon didn't drop his inclinations so easily and was still searching for bait that had already been reeled in without a catch.

"You don't like Decepticons?" Ambulon mewled, slinking closer. Max bristled.

"Can you blame me?" He bit out, seriously, stopping Ambulon in his tracks.

"The war's over Max…" All of his nerve was lost to confusion, the blemishes on his plating glaring former colours more intensely.

"I don't believe it!" Max was adamant, memories cutting into him deeply, permanently, "They don't change! Deadlock and that fraggin' pit spawn Cyclonus they'll frag us up one day. It'll happen."

Max thought it was his volume that had beaten Ambulon, his optics were downcast and his systems quiet, making Max feel obliged to correct his mistake. It took more fortitude than he owned but eventually Max pushed out his hands, bravely, and was met by a very natural connection. Ambulon's slim fingers linked neatly between Max's huge digits.

"You're a medic, you're too kind to understand."

Standing while Max sat, Ambulon was face to face, drawing on Max's confidence in him and feeling sickened by it. He felt a clash of morals at loggerheads inside and flicked his gaze down.

With compassion Fortress Maximus swept his thumb over Ambulon's jaw line, luring him, despite the queazy pulse of his spark getting faster, bulging into the misshapen, irreplaceable walls of his chest cavity. Warped metal lances pieces the burning orb of energy locked in Max's chest, the discomfort was complicated to understand when it was muddled between so much anticipation and pressure.

Ambulon didn't say a word, but the friction in their EM fields was more noticeable. Each time the sweeping tones collided a heat and heavy feelings swapped between them as they slotted together, filling the nooks and crannies. All sanity was slipping through cracks, Max forcefully reminding himself that he'd initiated this, even as bubbles of regret started to rise, exploding his nerve. Finally it was his pride that urged Fort Max to be a better mech. The last shred of his past self still jousting on behalf of his desires. Max steeled himself, tried to remember what to do, how to feel good. Madly retaining information in vague packages from the past, all the while imposed upon by time's constraint, Ambulon was leaning in too, squeezing the gap, dazed and unfocused, forcing Max to think, remember, remember to breathe, to calm down, don't panic.

And then, they were pressed together awkwardly, Fort Max's lips completely moulding over Ambulon's, their backs curved strangely and stiffness nagged at their struts.

The position didn't last, Ambulon pulled back and compromised, kneeling in closer, hands lifting and smoothing over Max's cheeks, guiding him back into something that broke the surface tension. Slow, lazy strokes of Ambulon glossa brushed against Max's dry lips, but then he hesitated, waiting for some kind of response. The pressure of Ambulon's lips eased and air got between them. Ambulon saw the hesitation get swallowed by yearning hunger and soon after he found himself tugged entirely into Max's lap, one hand snaked round Max's neck, the other shaken by the fervent growl rumbling in Max's engines.

"Max…" Ambulon panted against his lips. The hunger revving in Max's engines rolled off Max's tongue.

"Shh." He whispered, trying not to think, afraid of stopping insanity from blotting out everything else but this. Intensity crashed over them again, Ambulon twisting more and relishing that, for an instant, everything just felt so _fragging perfect _as Max's tongue licked behind his teeth. Ambulon gave him every breathless sigh, his spark hadn't expected something so amazing to take him by surprise and tantalising him thoroughly.

"I like you, Ambulon." Max's nose was digging into Ambulon's neck, his breath sending tickles of pleasure through Ambulon's fervent body. The moan wrecking his modesty put a thrill into Max and he continued kneading his blunt fingers into Ambulon's back.

"…"

Max encouraged him, gently, the pressure of his touch feeling so good.

"… I've got a duty shift." Fracturing the moment, Ambulon gagged on his own bludgeoning hit.

Max uncoiled from Ambulon's body, stealing his warmth back and his expression crunched like he'd been mystified. Ambulon rolled the tension from his neck and puffed loudly.

"I meant, I…"

"I know." Max sighed and relaxed back, ending Ambulon's stuttering but Ambulon was certain Max didn't have the slightest clue over what was really bothering him. His paint feeling itchier as it mopped up their residual charge.

Despite what he'd said, Ambulon lingered, straddled over Fortress Maximus's thighs, hands balancing him against the Autobot's chest.

"Ambulon?"

"Hmm?" Ambulon wasn't really concerned about anything except the presence of Max's thumb rubbing a firm circle on his hip.

"You're going to be late."

"Oh!" He sprang up, flustered and fidgety, hands running about his face, "Right. Umm," His medical texts were sitting on the desk where he'd left them, half read, "I need to go… you can stay here, if you like… y'know, until you feel ready to head back to your quarters. Umm, just take your time. There's some energon in my desk draw." Ambulon flapped about, rubbing at his lips subconsciously to erase the sensation lingering on them that kept making him want to lick, "Will you be okay?"

He looked back at Max, heartfelt, his many volumes of 'Ratchet Approved' Text tucked against his waist. Max's face creased,

"I'll be fine."

"Okay… good, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Max nodded and Ambulon bobbed his head a few more times before staggering out the door, "Bye."

A heavy blanket of defeat shrouded Maximus as he failed to think of anything but the aching in his joints. That instinctual desire for contact raising ideas of horrible temptation he was too weak to resist.

Max's tank treads crashed against Ambulon's berth and he slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his next breath.

"_Slag_." He wondered why he found it so hard to think of being with any mech and so inexplicably natural just then. He couldn't explain it and his confusion got compounded when he though of all the times…

Just the suggestion of it brought a nervous flutter to roil his tanks, trying to stroke the feeling away didn't help. Max twisted his head to one side, the ceiling now a place for demons to hang and occupied his sights with the wall, inhaling the scent of Ambulon's berth. It was cozy, welcoming, the smell of paint and detergent mixed with Ambulon's particular oily smell that rose like an aroma from Max's lap where the little mech had squirmed and made Max feel something special. Something that stuck with him and stirred needs in him that his irrational self couldn't ignore.

Shamefully he let the hand smoothing the kinks in his tanks wander, swallowing. Face creasing in a grimace as something carnal took over. It was not beyond Max's control but he dared to let his curiosity unravel on impulse. With a gurgle of unease he shifted on the berth, not having to try hard to picture Ambulon's lanky frame sitting where he'd like it to be. A lick of arousal between his legs informed Max's reluctant higher thoughts that he'd put the mental image in the right place. What he thought of next made him shudder. The shape moving with him blackening and losing its definition, becoming whatever Max's imagination let it. Devolving, consuming, unstoppable. His glossa nervously flicked round his teeth then bit down hard on his gums as he dared to move his hand into a more gratifying positi-

The door bleeped. Access code green. Fort Max immediately forced himself up on his elbows, looking guilty of something terrible as First Aid stepped into the room.

"_Fraggin' Primus!" _First Aid was extremely surprised to have company, he thought Ambulon would've at least given him some warning.


End file.
